Space Leather
by FireChestnut
Summary: Shepard wants butt-flaps for his crews' space-suits, the Illusive Man likes to play with sock-puppets, Thane thinks it's not lupus, Grunt likes rolling in kittens, and Miranda has stinky...er....you'll find out.


Immature and silly fic ahead!

The image of Thane popping vicodin and walking with a cane is killing me.

--

This was simply too inconvenient. He had to take a dump, he had to take a dump so bad the velocity from said dump would splash his butt-cheeks as it exploded into the water. The only problem? He was still in his space-suit, which was quite ass-tastic by the way, and it was quite hard to drop a chocolate fudge-dragon when you need to spend ten minutes getting the damn thing off.

'EDI?' Commander Shepard asked.

'What can I do for you, Commader?'

'Set up a com-link for the Illusive Man.'

--

'More shrimp on tha' bah-bee!' Exclaimed the Miranda sock-puppet, her visage of black-wool hair and mismatched button eyes making her look like her face was melting off. Well, that was partly true for the real one.

'I don't understand your Aussie-speak, but I want you to kiss me! Kiss me Miranda!' The Jacob sock-puppet, on the other hand, was a holy brown tube sock. It gave Jacob the appearance of a wrinkly, severely emaciated elephant.

'Croikey! Tha' dingo ate my bay-bay!'

'Kiss me you--'

The image of Shepard began to flicker in-front of him. Panicking, he hid the puppets behind his back.

'Shepard.'

The gruff looking space marine folded his arms.

'I have an urgent request that needs to be filled.'

'And what would that be?' The Illusive Man asked, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

'Butt-flaps.'

'What?'

'Butt-flaps. Flaps for your butt. I want butt-flaps put into all of the crews' space-suits.'

The Illusive Man pinched the bridge of his nose.

'I am not filling in an order for 'butt-flaps' for your space-suits, Shepard.'

'_But whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy--'_

'Good bye, Shepard.' He pressed the button on the his chair, and Shepard's image soon disappeared. Placing the puppets back on his hands, he smiled once more.

'--fool!'

--

Miranda Lawson never had a problem with her poose. In fact, it was the most perfect snatch in all the galaxy; it was genetically modified, of course. It never itched, or permeated nasty poose odours, and not once had it sworn at her like Jack's did.

One day, however, Miranda's mud-flaps let out one of the rankest queefs to ever leave the confines of someone's cock-chamber.

_Thbbthhhhffpptthhhhhh...._

'What was that?' The confused Cerberus woman asked, surprised at the sudden noise.

_Tbbbhtthh..._

There it was again!

The odour that entered her nostrils next smelled like gamy, dead meat; like a cavern, where many animals lived, and over the years, had died. She crinkled her nose and wafted her hand in front of her face. She didn't notice Jack walk into her office.

'Holy babyfucking Jesus, cheerleader, what is that smell?'

'Language!'

'Sorry, that was my pussy.'

--

Shepard knew very little about Thane Krios. He knew he was dangerous, extremely skilled, and dying. He sat across from the bug-eyed, green skinned man and looked at him sympathetically, Thane's space leather glinting from the over-head lamp.

'So, why exactly do you have?'

'Something to do with my lungs,' the drell folds his fingers, 'if we do survive this mission, I will probably die in a year or two.'

The commander crossed his legs.

'Are you sure it's your lungs? I mean, have you ruled everything else out? Like--'

'It's not lupus.'

Shepard nodded. As his eyes grazed over the assassin, he couldn't help but notice his glorious space leather once more. The idea of butt-flaps popped into his head once more.

'Thane, do you think we should get butt-flaps for our space-suits?'

Thane blinked.

'Well, my ass is rather fabulous.'

'Exactly.'

The Illusive Man clearly doesn't know what he's talking about.

--

If he could cry right now, he would. Grunt didn't mean to harm the poor little things, he merely loved their fluffy little paws against his naked skin so he rolled around on them. He can't exactly remember where he got the kittens, Omega? Yes, that's where. Some batarian was selling a box of white kittens.

But now Monkeyspank was dead, and Wankers, and Melons...

Especially Melons.

He scooped their little flattened kitten bodies up in his arms, and solemnly made his way over to Tali; she always knew what to do.

'Tali?' He asked quietly. She was wearing her 'quarian 69 shagging team' sweatshirt Shepard had given her, he noticed.

'Grunt, what can I do for...Keelah! Wh...are those...'

'I didn't mean too! They were so soft, and fluffy, I just had to feel them against my skin.' A forlorn expression was present on the krogan's face.

'Why not rub them on your face?'

'It's not the same as feeling them against your naked hide; kittens are my choice, not a disease.'

She rubbed a hand over her mask and muttered 'Keelah' once more before returning her gaze to Grunt.

'We'll make a coffin for them, and then eject it out the airlock.'

The next half-hour was spent making a small coffin for the kittens. They used scrap metal and plastic, and once it was completed, EDI assembled the whole crew for the viking burial. For the species who could cry, not a single eye was dry as the coffin was ejected out of the airlock, it's fiery silhouette visible as it rocketed towards a near-by planet.

'Never let him watch another one of those old Earth Royale toilet-paper commercials again,' Garrus whispered to Tali.

She nodded.

--

I hope you enjoyed reading that, I had fun writing it.


End file.
